Any Day But Wednesday
by reila
Summary: [slash. h/d.] What do you do when the last thing you want... is the only thing you want? One-shot.


Any Day But Wednesday

by reila robyn

Category: Romance/Humor.

Rating: PG

Pairing: H/D. Yes, slash. You clicked, so don't yell at me. (or, do, if you prefer. Flames are always so much fun.)

Author's Notes: I'm bored today, and this was tapping at the back of my brain, so here it is. Enjoy.

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Once upon a time, there were two boys who apparently really, really hated each other and had a Deep and Unyielding Rivalry. They were sixth year wizards at a school for witchcraft and wizardry, and everyone in the entire school knew about The Deep and Unyielding Rivalry. In fact, it was the source of quite a bit of good gossip and a lot of speculation.

These two boys normally went out of their way to embarrass or otherwise burden the other, because they were rivals, and that's what rivals did. End of story.

Then _it _happened.

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The first thing Draco Malfoy did after smiling at Harry Potter was look in the nearest mirror to see if he had any _other_ symptoms of sickness. When he saw nothing, he considered a few different possibilities: Imperius? Not unless they'd Memory Charmed him; he didn't remember feeling the sensation that went along with the Imperius Curse. The end of the world? No… not enough screaming and blazing infernos. Temporary insanity? He immediately dismissed that thought. Malfoys do not go temporarily insane. As Draco's father was fond of saying, "If you're going to do something, you damn well better do it completely."

This was proving to be an extremely baffling situation. Why would he, Draco Malfoy, smile at his worst enemy- his extremely annoying worst enemy- for no reason at all?

He wandered aimlessly around the castle for awhile, pondering this, and luckily, caught no glimpses of the root of the problem- a certain green-eyed, messy-haired Gryffindor, with, Draco thought sullenly, no fashion sense to speak of. 

Thinking about this in a pouty sort of way, Draco walked past a big window overlooking the Quidditch pitch… then an empty classroom… then a large calendar exclaiming today was the first Wednesday of November.

Draco stopped and stepped back a bit. 

"Oh," he muttered, noting this last part. "it's a Wednesday." 

He did something that was a very rare occurrence for him then- he smiled an actual smile, similar to the one he'd given to Harry Potter earlier, only a little wider. A passerby might have taken him for temporarily insane at this point.

"It's a Wednesday," he repeated happily to a portrait of a witch in a red dress. She looked up at him and smiled.

"That's… great?" she said slowly.

"Kind of," Draco informed her. "You see, it does explain the smile…" here the bright grin dropped off his face- "but it's a Wednesday, and nothing good ever happens on Wednesdays. No one ever does anything that makes sense on Wednesdays."

"Hmm," said the portrait. "I think some good things probably could happen, though, you never know."

"Yeah, well," said Draco, adapting his usual sneer, "what do you know. You're not even alive anymore." He stalked off, still thoroughly put out over smiling at Potter, before the portrait could say another word.

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Draco Malfoy sat alone in his Slytherin dorm room later that night while everyone else was at dinner or in the common rooms and thought more about the smile. It was bothering him now that it was bothering him this much, because he couldn't care less about Harry bloody Potter.

Right?

"Of course," Draco reassured himself aloud. Harry was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Potter, that is. Potter, Harry's name is Potte- damn.

This, Draco decided, was not helping at all.

He decided to take a walk.

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Draco had been walking around ten minutes when he saw Peeves, zipped around the nearest corner, slightly panicked, and ran head-on into the youngest Seeker in a century.

Harry Potter merely looked at the Slytherin sprawled awkwardly across his chest.

Draco scowled. Harry looked at him. Draco sneered. Harry acquired the tiniest grin. 

Draco sighed. "Sorry, Potter," he said wearily.

Harry's eyes got very wide.

"What?" said Draco irritably. 

"You- _apologized_," said Harry incredulously.

"Potter," Draco said, "it's a Wednesday. I have no control over this." Harry's eyes returned to normal size, but his face took on an extremely confused look. Draco didn't bother to explain.

It was about this point Draco realized he was still on top of Harry Potter- and he didn't mind all that much.

He got up immediately, and as fast as he could.

Harry Potter looked very amused.

Draco ran down the corridor without another word.

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I do not want Potter, I do not want Potter, I do not want Potter… became the daily mantra in Draco's head. He said it to himself every time he saw Potter and every night before he went to sleep (just for reinforcement). As a matter of fact, he said it so often he began to believe it- until another part of his brain cut into the mantra with an extremely irritating question he had no answer for- _What _do _you want, then?_

The best he could come up with was: _Well, he is the _last _thing I want._

It didn't answer the question, but the truth (which he fervently denied) was that he couldn't think of anything he wanted.

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It was Wednesday again.

Draco woke up with an impending sense of doom. _Not Wednesday, _he groaned inwardly. He glanced out the window and, seeing nothing but darkness, decided it was early enough to walk around without meeting anyone.

You never knew, on Wednesdays.

He slipped out of bed silently, careful not to wake anyone as he stepped out of the portrait hole. He shivered at the feel of cold stone floor under his feet. Walking slowly and carefully down the hall, he let his eyes get adjusted to the dim lighting of the corridors, looking from side to side.

Unfortunately, side to side is not forward, and, lo and behold, he soon ran into something solid.

And something _breathing_, he noted. He started to look up, but, remembering it was Wednesday, said a quick round of _I-do-not-want-Potter_s and glanced apprehensively upward.

Into the face of one Harry Potter.

"Oh, bloody hell," sighed Draco, looking up at Harry's unruly mass of hair and stupid thick glasses and soft pink lips.

"Oh, _bloody hell_," repeated Draco upon thinking this. Harry looked down at him with that adorable confused look.

Draco stared back at him for around ten seconds before very calmly saying, "Har- um, Potter- that is- oh, who cares. It's Wednesday, anyway." 

Draco Malfoy leaned upward and kissed Harry Potter.

Which was surprising, but not most surprising.

Most surprising was that Harry Potter kissed back.

Draco vaguely tried to get his mantra-chanters to start up, but they were singing the Hallelujah Chorus and not paying any attention to him.

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When in Rome, thought Draco, and smiled into the kiss, abandoning his mantra. He didn't need to deny wanting him - he had him.

Anyway, he could always validify it- after all, it was Wednesday.

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The end. Wasn't that great? No, not really, but fun to write, anyway.

Now review. Please? Pretty please with toasters on top?

Until next time,

-reila


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